Honeysuckle Lane
by Little Miss Mionie
Summary: Seven years after the downfall of corruption and the rising of peace, Gale Hawthorne returns to live in District Twelve, looking for atonement. Or redemption. Or guidance. …Or maybe some friends. He's not quite sure which right now.


Honeysuckle Lane

**Summary:** Seven years after the downfall of corruption and the rising of peace, Gale Hawthorne returns to live in District Twelve, looking for atonement. Or redemption. Or guidance. …Or maybe some friends. He's not quite sure which right now.

**Rated for** frequent course language and graphic sex scenes.

**Ships** Gale/Johanna, Gale/Delly, Katniss/Peeta

**Author's Note** If you're homophobic or sexist, this is not the story for you. I'm a feminist, and even though this story's protagonist is male, women will be doing things that they are normally slut-shamed for, because heck, we need more stories that present real women who defy traditional domestic spheres. Finally…I'm excited to bring this story to you! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

* * *

Seven years had not aged Gale Hawthorne's memory. He could remember his childhood home with such clarity he could almost smell the swelling timber floors, the rabbit stew bubbling in the kitchen; he could just hear Posy shrieking in delight as her brothers mimicked their too-skinny chickens in the yard. He could see his mother bent over piles of other people's washing, tired, but fixed with her careworn expression that screamed she would not quit, determined for the money it would bring them. He could see the old rusty front fence of theirs, bent out of shape and drunk with age, muted grey in the hazy blue dusk as he climbed over it every morning as a teenager to go hunt.

Even though the address of his family's home was now different, it was these things that Gale recollected when he pictured himself returning. The entire town had risen from the ashes like a phoenix to a shiner, geometric glory, and yet Gale had assumed he would soon drink in the sight of the home he'd always known, as if the Capitol had never scorched Twelve's earth all those years ago.

Perhaps it was because despite a drastic remodelling by Capitol architects, District Twelve still retained most of it's small-town, dirt poor shabbiness that Gale hadn't expected such a shocking vision of loveliness and modernity that was now the Hawthorne humble abode.

It was a two-storey brick home with a black, glossy wooden door. The door knocker was brass and circular. Neat, lively hedges fenced the front garden and flower bushels tumbled over the grass-green picket fence that guarded Number 22. It was two times larger than their old house had been. It was a million times better.

Gale squinted at the street sign on the corner: _Honeysuckle Lane_. Well, that was certainly a fucking quaint name for a street.

Gale sighed, wishing he'd had a stiff drink before he'd gotten off the train. He had been planning to move back to Twelve from Two for six months; he'd arranged to be transferred in his position at work; he'd mentally prepared himself for this drastic change…and yet here he was, nervous and unsure in the town he used to know like the back of his hand. Maybe it was because Twelve wasn't how he remembered it since he'd seen it last, seven years ago: dirty, but homely, or ablaze with Capitol bombs, the air rent with screams. Maybe it was because he wasn't how Twelve should remember him: he was older, no longer just good for a snare, but good for a bullet as a policeman (the nicer, passive aggressive name for a Peacekeeper who enforced the law and was actually enforced by the law himself).

He wasn't sure about being wiser. He saw her anxious, impassioned brown eyes like in a dream, a vision, before he shook his head, and set himself straight. He squared his shoulders, and wiped any imaginary dirt or dust off his blue jeans and black t-shirt. He shuffled his duffel bag on his shoulder, making sure the rip in the back couldn't be seen. He could do this. He _could_ do this. He could _do this_.

He would get his life back on track. He would become the man he should have been had Twelve not been destroyed.

With this resolution firmly in his mind, the brunette man walked down the cream pavement path that led to his family's front door, shooing away a dragonfly as it buzzed past. How stupid of him to be so worried in such a peaceful, serene place? He was going to see his mother, sister and brothers, for Christ's sake. He'd seen them in Two last year. There was nothing to worry about. Gale rapped his knuckles on the door, waited five beats, to which there was no answer, or sound of feet scarpering to open the door. He knocked again, looking at his shoes.

"Argh, fuck," Gale muttered as one of the seams in his bag started to rip. His muttering was interrupted by a timid clearing of the throat.

Gale looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway.

Shit. He hadn't even noticed she'd opened the door at his knocking.

"Language, young man," she half-heartedly scolded before pulling him into a big hug.

Gale's bag ripped and fell to the ground. He didn't care. He was twenty-seven, and still, being embraced by his mother could be the best, most welcome feeling in the world.

"Oh, my Gale," Hazelle Hawthorne said thickly, crying into his burly shoulders. "My baby's home."

Gale squeezed his mother tighter once more, and finally let go. "I can't believe this your home, mom," he said, amazed. "It's so big."

His mother just smiled fondly at him.

"I'm sorry about being a few hours earlier, I completely forgot about the time difference," Gale said.

"No matter. Would you like to put your things in your room?"

Gale quirked a smile. "I have a room?"

Hazelle led him through the doorway and into the kitchen. "Well, it's the guest room, but we'll call it yours for now."

Gale stopped and looked around the kitchen in a little bit of awe. It was clean, with shiny cooking appliances that ran from electricity. It was small, but more spacious than their old kitchen had been. Gale could have fit the bathroom and the kitchen into this new one.

"You have a guest room?" Gale repeated in shock.

He heard a sigh from behind him, and turned to see his brother Rory coming through the doorway from presumably his bedroom. "You're not the only one who got with the times, Gale," he said dryly.

Rory went to shake Gale's hand in greeting, but Gale grabbed it and pulled his little brother into a hug.

"You're – suffocating – me," Rory jokingly wheezed as the brotherly embrace ended.

Hazelle observed to Rory, "You're home early."

"Peeta let me get off early because of Gale's grand homecoming," Rory replied pleasantly.

_Peeta._ Well, that triggered nausea inside of Gale. And not just because he didn't like Peeta heart-on-his-sleeve Mellark on principle…but because he'd been avoiding the fact that by moving back to District Twelve he wouldn't be able to avoid certain people from his past. Fuck. He so wasn't ready to see her…

Gale tried to shake himself out of it. "Oh, Christ, that's right. You're working at the bakery now, right?"

"He's got an apprenticeship there. Peeta says one day Rory will run the bakery if he'd like to," Hazelle beamed.

"Or even open my own," Rory suggested with a wide grin.

Gale was impressed. "That's awesome."

Hazelle squeezed Gale's shoulder and smoothed his hair in a motherly gesture. "To think that both my boys have careers!"

Gale ducked out of her grasp. "Mom, I'm twenty-six. No need to do the hair thing."

His mother gave him The Look. "I'll do as I please, young man. Now, you may be a guest in our house, but you're also family, which means you'll start peeling those potatoes with Rory while I go pick up Posy from soccer practice."

Gale grinned. "Yes, m'am."

It was so good to be home.

* * *

Rory had always been the louder of his two younger brothers, but not in an obnoxious way. Gale had always gotten on well with him, so preparing dinner for the half an hour his mother had left for wasn't awkward as they talked about their lives. Gale didn't know why he'd been so nervous about arriving.

_Maybe it's what you're running from – _

Gale asked questions mostly to Rory, because he was sure his mother would focus the attention on him at dinner, and while Rory was calm and assured, Gale got the feeling that there was some resentment because Gale was the big shot policeman and they were hometown boys. None of them saw the other that way, really, but there had been a few tense family visits in Two in recent years as his brothers went through their teens.

Rory had done well for himself. He was more accomplished that Gale had been at nineteen. Of course, there'd been a war, but if their situations were reversed, Gale wouldn't know if he'd been determined enough to know how to hunt _and_ to have a trade _and_ to play guitar. That was a lot of skill. Gale was just good at arresting dickheads and having a _fucking_ good time with women.

Rory suggested that he could teach Gale how to play the guitar. It made Rory a really hit with his ex and current boyfriend, and he was sure it would work with 'the ladies' too. Gale laughed, and agreed to a lesson sometime soon.

Dinner was delicious. It hadn't been wrapped in plastic twenty minutes ago and then heated in a microwave. He mother had made some sort of chicken masterpiece with vegetables. The actual dinner, however, wasn't smooth sailing. Posy had fled to her room as soon as she burst through the front door in tears and refused to come down to dinner.

"What's up with her?" Gale asked as he, Rory and Vick, who'd just arrived home too, set the table.

"Her friends are idiots," Vick said.

Hazelle raised her eyebrows at Vick, and he backed down in an instant. "She's being bullied at school," she said gently. "Rory, would you make your sister a plate and then bring it up to her please? I'll go see if I can calm her down."

Gale frowned. He was torn between wanting to murder every single kid who'd hurt his baby sister and feeling confusion at the fact that his mother was letting Posy cry and eat dinner in her room. At fourteen, he would have been told to ignore those idiots and carry on. And he'd have to. Maybe it was different with girls?

"Who's bullying her? What are they doing?"

Vick started to answer, but Rory cut him off. Obviously. Vick was going to give a cynical view of the situation. "These girls who used to be Posy's friends shunned her when they got into high school because she wasn't allowed to go to parties or wear make up. Now, they steal her stuff from her locker, pull her hair, trip her up. But they do it so sneakily that the teacher's can't really punish them because there's no proof. It's been happening for months now."

"She's gonna cra-aack," Vick added in a sing-song voice.

Rory threw a napkin in his brother's face. "You jack-ass. I hope you're not the one to pick up the pieces."

His brothers started to argue just as their mother came down to grab the plate of food for Posy herself. Hazelle plated the food and grabbed the cordless phone, dialling a number as she went up the stairs to Posy's room.

Gale heard his mother say, "Can you come over and try to talk to her…?" as she ascended. The Hawthorne boys finished setting the as his mother came back down, sans little sis.

"I'm sorry about this, Gale honey," His mother said gently as she sat down at the table, and her sons followed suit. "Posy's just having a tough time right now, but she is really happy to have you here."

"You're all she's been able to talk about for days," Rory added with a grin as he started to dish out the chicken.

Gale rolled his eyes and laughed. "Good to know someone still loves me around here," to which the rest of his family groaned.

Hazelle returned compliments about her cooking with questions about Gale's new job.

"So you're going to be the deputy officer of District Twelve?" she asked, even though she'd talked to him about his position during their phone conversations half a dozen times. She looked at him proudly.

"Yeah. They needed someone after Richardson retired."

"But I thought you weren't coming until later in the year," Vick said through a mouthful of chicken. "Why did you come now?"

Gale saw her in his mind and what she said, and the real reason he'd come earlier than planned. "It just seemed right to come earlier. I want to look for a house, and I'm bound to get a better price this time of year."

"You're leaving me again so soon?" His mother said with a smile.

"Awesome! Does this mean we can stay at your house sometimes, Gale?" Vick asked excitedly.

He laughed, "Maybe. Depends on whether Mom thinks that's a good idea of not."

"Awww. Moooom…"

As Gale scooped mash potato onto his plate, there came a knock at the door. Without waiting for anyone to answer it, Gale saw Katniss Everdeen breeze in, the absurdity and ordinariness of the situation leaving him stunned.

She stopped at the table to say, "Posy?" to which Rory replied, "Upstairs" over Vick's whining to their mother.

Katniss ascended the staircase with a grim nod, not stopping to acknowledge Gale. Some form of stupid, gurgling, protesting noise must have tumbled out of his mouth, for his mother gave him a stern look.

"Yes, that was Katniss," she said, as if daring him to object.

Gale guessed his mother was waiting for him to explode angrily at their life without him - unless she or one of the boys beat him to the punch. "She's been a great friend to Posy since those silly little girls at school started to be mean to her."

Gale nodded and commented distractedly, "That's nice."

All he could think of was that Katniss's hair was shorter. It was out, brushing her shoulders, not in it's infamous braid. She was older. Beautiful, in her own way. A proper woman. She wasn't half scalded, dirty, or starving. Her arms were shiny, patches raised, remnants of the burns she'd suffered when...when...

_Could this homecoming get any more bewildering?_

He didn't hear her coming back downstairs ten minutes later, too absorbed in pushing his peas around his plate moodily. She stood somewhat awkwardly at the foot of the stairs and cleared her throat. Gale looked up.

Her eyes, so expressive, didn't leave Gale's. "Posy will be okay. I think she'll come down for dinner before it gets cold," she said reassuringly with a small smile. "Hi, Gale. Hazelle said you were coming home today."

Gale watched her visibly swallow, nervous. God. Katniss had never been nervous around him. Fuck, he'd never been nervous around her, either, or tongue-tied, for that matter. "Welcome back," she finished softly.

Katniss bid everyone goodnight and let herself out as easily and quickly as she'd entered.

* * *

Vick was knocking on the guest bedroom door as Gale sat down on the guest bed. "Come in," he called.

"Hey," Gale greeted as his brother walked in.

"Hey," Vick replied. "You seemed like you were suffering from a little culture shock at dinner. I'm sorry that we don't have a fancy microwave like you do but – "

"_Vick_."

His brother stopped short with an irritated look on his face. He'd always begrudged Gale for never returning home with them, and living a life of luxury in District Two.

"This house is amazing. There are two bathrooms, for crying out loud. I could fit my old apartment in Two in this place three times. It's huge. You guys have nothing to be insecure about."

Vick sighed and decidedly gave up the fight.

Gale cleared his throat and gestured towards a chair in the corner of the room for Vick to sit down on. He sat up on the chest of drawers that rested against the back wall instead.

Gale gave his little brother a smile. "Mom says you want to go the local community college when you finish high school next year?"

"Yup," Vick replied, swinging his legs back and forth.

"But I thought you wanted to be a writer?"

Vick frowned. "You remembered that?"

"Well, yeah."

_That _got Vick talking a lot more openly, and more importantly _nicely_, to his brother about how in order to become a writer you first needed to go to college, duh, and then you'll be able to get a position at the local newspaper, or write a bestselling novel. Gale thought that sounded a bit odd, but hey, he was the only Hawthorne who'd ever had dreams of furthering (_read: finishing_) their education.

Gale couldn't begrudge his brother for having grudges, but it's not like Vick or Rory had to support their entire family at fourteen. They hadn't had to see the things he'd seen at nineteen. They didn't know how much he'd needed a break when the rebellion had ended – from everything and everyone.

A seven year break, apparently. But now he was back, and he was going to do things right by his family.

_Family…_

"Remember when we didn't have a guest bedroom?" Vick asked suddenly after the conversation had died down. "And we all had to share one bedroom?"

Gale nodded, remembering the cramped, damp room he had shared with his brothers. His legs had been too long for the bed, and so his feet always angled off the edge, unless he has room to tuck his legs up. It had been horrible, sharing with two younger, sweaty, dirty boys, but it had been nothing out of the ordinary.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"So…it's Saturday tomorrow. I'm not at school, obviously, if you wanted to go look for a house and have me tag along," Vick offered nicely after a few moments.

Gale smiled. "That'd be awesome. Thanks, bro."

Vick stood up and walked towards the door, saying as he went out, "It's good to have you home. Mom's missed you…we all have."

Vick went to close the door. "Goodnight, then."

"Night, Vick."

Gale switched off the light and ruminated about the night's events. His mother was so at ease with all the kitchen technology: his brother took a shower with hot water from a system like it was no big deal. He could turn off a light by flicking a switch rather than blowing out a candle. He had extra blankets if he was cold in the linen cupboard, his mother had told him, and there were snacks in the fridge if he got hungry. All of this was normal life in District Two, but it seemed so alien in his home district.

His family had changed. Of course they had. _He_ had changed.

And Katniss was…god…He hadn't been prepared for her to be at ease in his family's life. As he'd found out during dinner, she was more than just functioning, but _working in a factory as a repairwoman_, _still_ with Peeta Mellark, not crazy on meds like he think he'd be if he had lived her life_._

The vibrating of his mobile phone, issued for professional and personal use in his occupation as a policeman, awoke him from his dark musings.

The caller ID told him it was Johanna. He pressed the green 'receive call' button.

"Hey, Jo," he said softly, so that he wouldn't wake anyone else up, or be overheard.

"Hey, Hawthorne," came Johanna Mason's familiar, blunt and beautiful voice over the line. "Did you make it back home safely?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Johanna doesn't push him to elaborate. That's why he was first drawn to her two years ago when they started to become friends, and then eight months ago, when they started to become lovers. She had better things to be worried about in her own life, and she didn't need to be bored with the details of his life he didn't want to share, anyway. They weren't emotionless, but they weren't crazy emotional people, either…unless pushed. He could speak from personal experience that Johanna Mason was still excellent with knives.

They were great for each other. Johanna was great in bed, too (and like she'd ever let Gale forget it). Gale had already started to plan to move out of Two, sick of the classist, gossip-mongering lifestyle that went on there, when they'd first hooked up so Jo and he had kept it very casual.

"So," Jo began, ever one to cut to the chase, "I have another appointment in two weeks here in Four. We get to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time, and will know if there's anything wrong, stuff to be concerned with. Do you think you can make it?"

He could imagine her waiting on the line for his answer, playing with her short cropped brown hair, twisting her black-painted fingernails around it, annoyed, impatient.

Gale swallowed, guilt rising like bile. He loved Jo as a wonderful friend, a great fuck he could be an equal with, and although he hated that he put her in this situation…

…the idea of having a child scared him. When he was younger, he'd always assumed he'd have children. He loved children. He'd practically already been a parent to his younger siblings. He was _good _at it.

But since Jo had told him she was pregnant three and a bit months ago – had looked at him unseeing, almost amazed that they had accidentally created a foetus, and that she _didn't want to have an abortion this time around, what the fuck, since when am I motherly?_ – his paternal feelings had been replaced by feelings of inadequacy.

Gale could practically hear her bristle on the phone when he doesn't reply.

"Fucking hell, Gale, I'm not asking for much. I'm not even asking for money. I don't want to marry you and have a million babies with you. I wanna have this kid and maybe not do it on my own. You know, not repeating my parents' shitty mistakes and all that shit. It'd be nice if you shared my sentiment."

The line clicked dead. Jo had hung up.

Gale fell back onto the bed and stared up into the dark. He thought about Jo, about their baby, about his new job, about a house he'd hopefully have within the month.

He swore to himself that he'd get settled back here in Twelve and try. Try for Jo. Try for the baby. Try for his mother. Try for himself.

It seemed like he was doing a stellar job so far.

_Fuck._ He sometimes wished he could just hang up on his life.

* * *

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